


How Still My Heart

by fewthistle



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3235187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fewthistle/pseuds/fewthistle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days really are better than others, as Peggy soon discovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Still My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers, really. This is my first Agent Carter, so be gentle. This may continue but for now, it stands alone. Completely unbeta'd, so all mistakes mine. And it's 2 am, so there are no doubt several. I'll fix them tomorrow. In the meantime, hope you enjoy. Title from that most amazing of songs, "How High the Moon".
> 
> ETA: This story continues with "All the Things You Are" :http://archiveofourown.org/works/3309113

 

How Still My Heart

Fewthistle

 

 

For an instant, eyes blearily opening, she thought she was back in London. Fog edged along the wet pavement, bringing to her a thick roux of scents: mildew and urine and river. As her head began to clear, Peggy knew: it wasn’t her river. Wasn’t her city. The haze in her mind lifted and the events of the past few hours came rushing back to her. A tip about a warehouse along the East River, the vague hope that it might lead to some clues about Leviathan. She had left a message for Jarvis to meet her here, but there had been no sign of him and so, after waiting ten minutes, she’d silently skirted the edge of the building, looking for a way in. She’d spotted the door just as three men exited. She hadn’t seen the other two until it was too late.

Lying on the filthy, garbage-strewn concrete of the alley, Peggy listened for any sound which might indicate her attackers were still there. Only the deep baritone of a distant foghorn and the shrill cry of gulls disturbed the silence. Gingerly testing out first one arm, and then the other, she groaned at the sharp tendrils of pain that shot through her shoulders. Her back ached. Her head ached. Her shoulder ached. Her entire body felt as if she’d been mowed down by a tank. The cold wind off the river seemed to seep into her bones, a profound chill that set her teeth on edge as she struggled to her feet, stumbling as a now broken heel caught on some detritus, one hand reaching out automatically to seek purchase against the dull red brick of the alley wall. A hiss of pain escaped her lips as already battered knuckles skittered along the rough surface.

Odd that they’d left her alive; well, something close to it anyway. They had probably assumed that, given the beating she’d received, she wouldn’t be waking up. She knew she should have waited for Jarvis, but patience had never been one of her virtues. Besides, she had plans for eight o’clock that evening, plans that included sitting in a darkened theatre with a lovely would-be actress, the warmth of their arms pressing against each other on the armrest, the faint scent of perfume teasing Peggy’s senses. Shaking her head roughly, she forced the image from her mind.

Every day she reproached herself for allowing the smiling blonde into her life, for allowing herself to feel again, even if she never quite managed to convince herself that what she felt was simple friendly affection. Nothing more. God knows, this wasn’t the first time that she’d stood the young waitress up. She was fairly certain that deity was aware it wouldn’t be the last, either. Just one more in a long string of disappointed friends. Disappointed family. Just one more chance to let someone she cared for down, all in the name of duty. Surely, Angie was better off learning the hard way that having Peggy Carter in her life was never going to end well.

Peggy prayed that it wouldn’t end like Coleen. Like Steve. Like this.

Pushing herself upright, she felt a wave of nausea sweep over her, the edges of her vision blurring as intense pain stabbed through her head. She leaned heavily against the grimy brick, closing her eyes and attempting to will away the urge to vomit.

“Definitely not one of my better days,” she murmured, red-tipped fingers wiping another shade of red from her temple, where blood slowly oozed. She realized that her hair was matted with it, plastered against her skull, sticky and smelling of copper. The humidity in the night air clung to her skin, a cold, clammy blanket that settled solidly against her body. She’d lost enough blood that, combined with the cold, she began to shiver rather violently, the sound of her harsh breathing and the clenching and unclenching of her jaw drowning out the distant sound of an engine. It wasn’t until the shrill shriek of rubber against concrete echoed eerily through the maze of empty buildings that the sound pierced her consciousness.

The alley was long and narrow and afforded little in the way of hiding places. Not that she was actually capable of moving, beyond pressing her bruised back tighter against the wall and slowly turning her head towards the sound, the stabbing pain that came with the motion bringing with it another drowning wave of nausea. Headlights rushed by the far end of the alley, followed quickly by another sharp squeal of tires as the car braked and then reversed, swinging tightly into the alley. The bright glare of light in her face caused Peggy to flinch, her vision narrowing yet again. It occurred to her that if it wasn’t Jarvis, the chances were very good that, given her current condition, she was going to die in the next few minutes.

The thought was surprisingly anti-climactic.

“Miss Carter!” Peggy’s clouded mind registered slight surprise at the edge of concern in the plummy tones. She must look worse than she imagined to have breached Jarvis’s studied air of polite indifference. “Miss Carter! Are you alright?!”

Peggy opened her mouth to speak, but instead of the sarcastic retort she had intended, all that came out was a harsh exhalation of breath and a not-so-soft groan. She felt Jarvis’s hands slipping under her arms to support her as she attempted to push herself off of the wall. The next second her legs gave out beneath her and she felt herself falling, only to be pulled up short as Jarvis caught her, half-pulling, half-carrying her to the car. In the few seconds that it took for him to prop her awkwardly against the side of the car and wrench open the passenger door, she lost her ongoing battle with consciousness, the world edging quickly into darkness.

 

 

She awoke to silken, fragrant sheets, the soft gold of sunlight seeping through the crack in the curtains, and pain. Sharp, pervasive pain. Pain that spread tendrils from her head, slithering down her spine; pain that sent burrowing, nascent roots down her legs, pain that wrapped thick, twisted vines around her ribs, tightening with every shallow breath. A quiet whimper slipped from her lips as she tilted her head to the left, eyes raking slowly around the room. It took her a few moments to recognize the bedroom in Stark’s empty house. The only sound was the sibilant hissing of the radiators.

She had fleeting visions of waking before, of feeling the press of a cool rag against her forehead, of soft hands holding a cup to her lips. Of Angie leaning over her and murmuring words, soft words of encouragement and comfort, her hands gentle on her skin, her soft lips pressing tenderly against Peggy’s own. Of telling Angie that she was stupidly in love with her, confessing all the things she dreamed of doing to her, with her. Ridiculous fantasies brought on by the pain and the cloying grip of the morphine that had slipped under her skin, bringing oblivion and sweet dreams.

Peggy began to take inventory, cataloging as clinically as she could her current predicament. Grunting with the effort, she raised her right hand to her head, feeling the texture of the gauze bandage that wound around her head, with it the vague memory of matted blood and intense pain. Head wound. Check. Another bandage wrapped snugly around most of her torso, restricting her movement. Broken ribs. Several probably. Check. Left shoulder, also wrapped. Dislocated perhaps, although as she could lift her arm, clearly back in its socket. No wait. Specific pain as she touched the bandage. Bullet wound. Check. Running her tongue over dry, chapped lips, she could feel the swelling, taste the tang of blood along the right edge. Busted lip, no doubt. Check. Without a mirror she couldn’t ascertain for sure, but given the fact that her right eye didn’t seem to be opening with the same alacrity or clarity of vision as her left, she presumed that it, too, was swollen and discolored. Black eye. Check. She gingerly tested her legs. Right one, sore but manageable. Left, not so much. Probably had popped her kneecap out at one point, if the pain was any clue. Decided limp. Check.

Her groan as she attempted to sit almost masked the sound of approaching footsteps against the polished wood floors. Two sets of footsteps.

The cracked door opened slowly, but instead of Jarvis’s pleasant countenance, she found herself meeting blue eyes darkened to sapphire with worry, a frown creasing a smooth forehead as Angie Martinelli opened the door fully, stepping into the bedroom.

“Angie?! What are doing here?” Peggy croaked, mouth and throat dry, her voice rough and gravelly.

Before Angie could respond Jarvis appeared behind her, a look of chagrin and apology in his eyes. “I’m afraid that is entirely my fault,” he answered guiltily. “I went by the Griffith, as you asked, and attempted to explain to Miss Martinelli that you’d had to take a sudden trip out of town. However,…”

“I asked to do that? When?” Peggy interrupted, her eyes never leaving Angie’s face, attempting to decipher the fierce look on the young woman’s face. To understand her complete and awful silence.

“Yes, well. Um,” Jarvis murmured, glancing at the still silent woman standing beside him, as if expecting her to interrupt.

“Jarvis.” Peggy replied sharply, eyes swiveling towards him for a moment in annoyance.

“Right, yes. After I found you at the warehouse, I brought you here. As you’ve no doubt surmised, your injuries are extensive. In the midst of bandaging you up, you were briefly lucid. A few minutes before you passed out for the third time you asked that I find Miss Martinelli and speak with her. You were concerned that Miss Martinelli would think you had stood her up and then would be worried that you didn’t return home. As there was no way you would have been able to return to your apartment, you demanded that I go by and explain that you’d had a family emergency,” Jarvis responded concisely, the embarrassed expression on his face at odds with his recounting.

“At any point, before, during, or after passing out, did I suggest that you should bring her here?” Peggy asked acerbically, the pain suddenly less severe in light of the current situation.

“No, you did not. However, my errand did not go according to plan,” Jarvis admitted, glancing at Angie, who still stood silently staring at the figure in the bed. She had made no move to get closer since they had walked in, simply standing stiffly, her mouth a thin line. A marked difference to her behavior for the past four days, when she had barely left Peggy’s side. He’d frankly been astonished that Miss Carter had not awoken that first morning he had brought the young woman here, given the sustained and uncontrolled sobbing as Miss Martinelli knelt beside the bed, her face buried against Peggy’s side. But then, he’d also been astonished that Miss Carter was still alive, given her injuries. Clearly, one never knew.

“Did not go according to plan. I would wager that that has to be one of the most egregious understatements of the decade, Mr. Jarvis,” Peggy grimaced, her unease at Angie’s silence growing with every second that passed. The woman was never quiet, never still, the energy in her often overflowing into aimless chatter and nervous motion. Never this unnatural lassitude.

“There is no need for sarcasm, Miss Carter.” Jarvis attempted to keep the astringent note out of his voice, but failed miserably. “As I was saying before you interrupted, I decided to honor your wish, despite not wanting to leave you alone in your condition. I had, however, given a solemn vow that I would do as you requested. So, I stopped Miss Martinelli as she was leaving for work. Unfortunately, as soon as I began to speak, she simply turned, walked over to the car and got in. Despite a very concerted effort on my part, she refused to exit the automobile, refused quite adamantly to accept my explanation for your absence, and in fact, used some very colorful language to inform me what the consequences would be should I fail to bring her to you. Short of physically removing her from the car in the middle of a crowded street, I had no choice but to acquiesce to her demand.”

Jarvis paused, his expression growing somber. “And to be perfectly frank, given the state you were in and the extent of your injuries, I was…well, I was not terribly confident that you would survive. I simply couldn’t allow you to miss an opportunity to say goodbye, if necessary. I’m quite familiar with regrets, Miss Carter, as are you. I didn’t wish another, for any of us.”

Before Peggy could respond, Angie turned suddenly to Jarvis, her expression unreadable. “Thanks for explaining, Mr. Fancy. I’ll take it from here.” Her pointed stare and raised eyebrow finally registered, and with a faint smile of apology, Jarvis edged out of the door, closing it behind him.

“Angie,” Peggy began, her voice breaking slightly as she tried to push herself up against the headboard and a stab of pain knifed into her side.

“No, English. You don’t talk. Not right now. You just listen, got it?” Angie replied quietly, moving finally to the edge of the bed. She gently slipped her hands under Peggy’s arms, careful of her ribs, and helped her settle back against the pillows.

Her face was close enough that Peggy could see the flecks of gold in her blue eyes. She could also clearly see the dark shadows beneath those eyes. Eyes whose expression, usually so open, was guarded and closed off. Peggy nodded in acquiescence, the dull ache in her head increasing.

Once Peggy was settled, Angie sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands absently smoothing the cool fabric of the sheet. Her eyes scanned Peggy’s face, brows furrowed in concentration. Finally, she spoke.

“You’re a real jackass, you know that, English?” She stated firmly. For the first time since she’d entered the room, Peggy could see a little of the other woman’s usual fire.

“Angie, let me explain…,” Peggy began hoarsely, only to be hushed.

“I told you, no talking. I’ve had just about all the explaining I can stand right now, so just shut your trap and listen.” As much as she hated to be the cause of it, Peggy was at least pleased to see, in her anger, flashes of her Angie. Not that she’d ever be hers, of course. Just…

“So, Thursday night, there I was. Standing around outside the Globe, waiting for you. Because you promised. You promised that this time you were going to be there,” Angie stated flatly, her mouth compressed back into that thin line. She waved her hand impatiently as Peggy’s lips parted to offer an apology. “No interruptions. Yeah, well, finally, even idiot me realizes that you’re not gonna show, so I thought, what the hell, I’m here. I’m gonna see the movie. ‘ _Notorious’_. Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman. Not that I paid much attention to it. I sat there feeling stupid and guillible, trying to figure out why I keep believing you when I oughta know better. What a sap, huh? I spent the whole movie thinking of what I was gonna say to you. I had this whole speech prepared to give you when you got home. But you didn’t come home.”

Angie paused, her expression pensive as she stared at the carpet. Suddenly she rose from the bed, crossing over to the small table by the window. On it sat a pitcher of water and glasses. Angie picked up a glass and poured water into it, before returning to the bed. She held the glass carefully to Peggy’s lips, her other hand slipping behind Peggy’s head to gently tilt it back, allowing her to drink with little effort. The dichotomy between her touch and her words was striking, but all Peggy could do was murmur a quiet, “Thank you.”

Angie set the glass on the bedside table and resumed her place on the edge of the bed. She took a deep breath, seeming to gather her thoughts again. “I didn’t know what to do. Even though you’ve stood me up before, you always came back to your apartment. You were always there at breakfast, looking guilty and a little sad. But not this time. And I realized why I keep believing you. Why I stayed on your case until you caved and moved in next door.”

Peggy waited for her to continue, to clarify her words, but nothing came. When Angie spoke again, her voice had grown softer. “When Mr. Fancy showed up and started in with this goobledygook about a family emergency, I guess I flipped my wig a little. He really did try and get me outa his car, but I told him I didn’t believe a word he was sayin’ and that if he didn’t take me to you, I was gonna roll down the window and start yellin’ for a cop. I think he knew I was serious, because he started driving. He brought me here.”

“How many days have I been here?” Peggy asked quietly, somehow aware that this was an allowable interruption.

“Almost five. It’s Tuesday morning,” Angie replied, her expression once again grim. “That first morning I saw you. I didn’t think you were gonna make it. You looked awful, Peg. Mr. Fancy had stitched you up and bandaged everything, but your skin was gray and when you breathed, it rattled in your chest. I was so scared, English. I really thought you were gonna die.”

“Five days?” Peggy breathed. It seemed almost impossible that she’d been unconscious that long. That she’d been that close to death. Angie’s face, however, told her just how true it was. “You’ve been here all that time?”

“Most of it. Except for a few hours here and there. After Mr. Fancy finally convinced me that first morning that you probably weren’t going to die, we decided that he’d drive me back to the Griffith. I called in sick to the Automat, told Miss Fry that you had the flu, that you were still in bed and not to worry, I’d be looking in on you. I went upstairs and then climbed down the fire escape. Jarvis picked me up and brought me back here. We did that every day. He’d take me back around nine, so I was in before curfew. I’d go upstairs, go into your apartment, like I was checking on you, then go into mine, climb down again and come back here. We had a system.” Angie paused, her eyes narrowing as she continued. “Oh, and by the way, we stopped at the phone company on Friday.”

“You what?!” Peggy exclaimed, her sudden movement to sit up accompanied by a groan of pain and a sharp intake of breath.

“Peggy! Sit still! Just lay there and stop trying to move around,” Angie ordered, one hand coming up to press lightly, palm flat against Peggy’s chest, forcing her gently back against the pillows. Despite her concern at Angie being anywhere near the SSR, Peggy couldn’t help but notice that Angie left her hand where it was, the skin of her palm warm against Peggy’s chest. “Don’t worry. It was Jarvis’s idea. Said if you didn’t call in to work that it could get complicated. I just walked into the ‘phone company’ and talked to the lady in charge. Told her you had the flu. I started describing how you’d been throwin’ up all night, in kinda graphic detail, and she stopped asking questions. Said she hoped you felt better. We’ll discuss the whole not-really-the-phone-company part later.”

“Angie, I didn’t….I never wanted to lie to you,” Peggy began, only to be silenced this time by the feel of Angie’s fingers against her lips. Bright blue eyes bored into her own, the expression in them causing Peggy to catch her breath, almost unwilling to believe what she was seeing.

“Later, okay? When you don’t look like death warmed over and I don’t feel guilty yelling at you for being such a jerk?” Angie asked, her fingers tracing slowly along the edge of Peggy’s full lips. “You scared me, English. I don’t want to lose you. If we’re gonna be together, you’ve gotta start being more careful and taking better care of yourself.”

In none of the fantasies that Peggy had been harboring regarding the young woman sitting next to her did the object of her affections actually return them. As the full import of Angie’s words made their way into Peggy’s still slightly muddled mind, her jaw dropped open. Obviously, those dreams she had hadn’t really been dreams. Angie actually had been here, taking care of her. Oh, God, had she really said all those things out loud? To Angie? Peggy swallowed hard and stammered, “To—together? As in, you and me….being well, being an us?”

Clearly the shocked look on Peggy’s face had a deleterious effect, as Angie pulled back the hand which had been gently stroking the soft skin of Peggy’s cheek, and rose, her own cheeks stained red. She fidgeted with her fingers, staring down at the carpet, her mouth working uncertainly

“I just…you said. You talked. I mean, I thought you…The things you said the past few days. You don’t even remember them, do you?” Angie stuttered, her face suffused now with color. “I’m an idiot. Of course, you don’t. It was all that morphine, wasn’t it? Never mind. I’m just gonna go now. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m sure Mr. Fancy will get you on your feet again. I’ll see you around, English.”

Turning so abruptly that she stumbled a bit on the edge of the rug, Angie fled quickly toward the door.

“Angie! Angie, please stop!” Peggy cried out, her brain finally catching up to the meaning of the other woman’s words. She forced herself to sit up, the tightness of the bandage around her torso forcing the air from her lungs, her ribs contracting, causing knife-like pains that left her gasping. Angie turned at the sound, her eyes conflicted. “Please don’t make chase you. I will, you know, but I doubt that crawling down the hallway after you will be very dignified.”

“English, look, I get it, you don’t have to…,” Angie began, only to be interrupted.

“Angie,” Peggy sighed, grimacing as she leaned back a bit to ease the tightness around her ribs. “You’re right. I don’t remember most of what I said,” she continued, holding up a hand to forestall the protest she could see forming on Angie’s lips. “But I do remember some of it. And even though I thought you were a figment of my imagination, I meant what I said, even if it was only to what I thought was a fantasy.”

Angie’s expression wavered between doubt and humiliation and hope. She looked up at Peggy through her eyelashes, straight white teeth catching her bottom lip. “What do you remember saying, English?”

Peggy smiled, the pain of her head and ribs forgotten for a moment at the sweet, hopeful look on Angie’s face. “I told you that I think about you all the time. That you’re beautiful and kind and strong and wonderful. That I want you. That I need you in my life, even though the thought of what might happen to you because of me, absolutely terrifies me. That I’m awfully afraid that I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Angie walked slowly back to the bed, a tremulous smile lighting her face. Instead of returning to the edge of the bed however, she circled around to the other side, slipping off her shoes and climbing carefully onto the mattress. She hovered for a moment on her knees, one hand coming out to tenderly cup Peggy’s cheek.

“Sounds like you remember quite a bit, English,” she murmured, her thumb brushing across Peggy’s lips.

“All the things that matter, darling,” Peggy replied, mesmerized by the blue eyes now staring adoringly into her own.

Leaning forward on one hand, Angie brought her lips to Peggy’s, a gentle pressure that still managed to send a wash of warmth all through Peggy’s body. Pulling back, Angie grinned at her, settling down cautiously at her side, reclining against the other pillows. She reached out and captured Peggy’s right hand, her thumb gliding gently across the bruised knuckles.

“As I was saying, English. You gotta start taking better care of yourself. No more secrets. No more half-truths. Did it ever occur to you that knowing what the hell is going on is probably safer for me than stumbling along not knowing where you are or why you don’t show up? Not knowing that maybe I ought to be on the look-out for certain things? I need you to start trusting me, Peg, okay?” Angie lectured gently. “But right now, I just need you to rest. I know you’re still exhausted. I’ll be right here when you wake up. I swear. And Peg? All those things you said? I feel the same way.”

Peggy smiled and nodded. She was exhausted. She still hurt everywhere and she wasn’t quite convinced that the past few hours hadn’t all been just a dream. Still, as dreams went, she thought, hearing those words and seeing the sweet smile on Angie’s lips on the pillow beside her, this was far better than she ever could have hoped.

“Definitely one of my better days,” she murmured, slipping off to sleep, Angie’s hand gently grasping her own.

FIN


End file.
